


Mistle Me This, Mistle Me That

by strangeallure



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Holidays, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Mistletoe, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeallure/pseuds/strangeallure
Summary: “Here we go again.” Rey points above them with a grin. “Good thing we’ve had practice.”Ben glances up and, sure enough, a sprig of mistletoe is dangling from the awning they’re currently under.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 22
Kudos: 82





	Mistle Me This, Mistle Me That

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in this lovely fandom. Thanks go, as always, to Frangipani for encouragement and beta.

It all starts with Poe’s _Seasonal Kick-off Party_.

The thing about Poe is that he isn’t just a Christmas enthusiast, he’s a fanatic. Ben’s Jewish and doesn’t really get it, but Poe is his oldest friend, so if Ben’s invited, he’s going to show up. At least there’s free food – and alcohol.

There’s also Rey. Ben wouldn’t admit it, but Rey is a major draw in keeping up with their extended friend group’s get-togethers. Rey and Ben aren’t close friends, he supposes, but they’re something that’s almost better: sparring partners, of the verbal variety.

Rey’s smart and well-read and passionate and somehow, there’s always a topic for them to disagree on. Congressional hearings, movies, literature, infrastructure spending, the best flavor of ice cream. You name it, they've fought about it.

Ben is no stranger to fighting, verbal and otherwise. He’s opinionated and moody, a combination that’s gotten him into plenty of trouble in his youth, and isn’t always appreciated in his grad program either, but with Rey, it’s almost always fun. Her arguments are logical, mostly backed up with data or astute observations, and although she’s a fierce opponent (just ask the witnesses of the great _tea versus coffee_ fight of Labor Day 2019), they always manage to keep it civil, friendly. Their own little debate club.

So when he finally makes it to Poe’s building, shouldering through the creaky door and patting snow off his coat, he’s idly wondering if Rey’s arrived already. Just then, the elevator dings. “Hold, please,” he hollers and jogs to catch up.

When he rounds the corner, the person holding the door is none other than Rey.

Ben steps into the cabin with her. “Thanks.” He’s not sure his expression counts as a smile.

“Of course,” she replies. “Oh Ben,” she reaches for the top of his head, “you really should buy yourself a hat sometime.” A significant amount of snow swirls up around them, all caught in his hair, apparently. “It’s like a snow globe in here,” she laughs.

He makes a noncommittal noise, unwilling to admit that it’s pure vanity, his ears managing to stick out from under any hat he’s ever tried. He’d rather get his hair wet than compromise his dignity.

“If you were a little nicer, I’d knit you one for Christmas.” She crinkles her nose in that way he never quite understands but somehow always enjoys seeing.

“I’m not really a cable knit kind of guy,” he says because he’s seen plenty of Rey’s creations – including the undeniably cute striped hat she’s wearing right now – and that seems to be the only pattern she knows how to do.

Rey hums and smiles at him, and before he can figure out what the look she gives him might mean, the door opens on their floor. There’s already plenty of boots in the hallway, and they follow the other guests’ lead and take off their shoes. Predictably, Rey brought additional socks to keep her warm. Usually, they’d be orange or purple, but today, they’re green and red. Cable knit, of course.

“How seasonal,” Ben says, pointing at her feet.

She wiggles her toes. “You like them?”

“Sure,” he says and rings the bell.

The door opens to most of their friends spread out around the living room and a discordant chorus of greetings. Strangely enough, Poe isn’t inviting them in. Instead he bars them from entry, looking like a holiday-themed traffic cone in his striped elf costume.

“What’s going on?” Ben asks, confused.

Poe jerks his chin up. “Mistletoe!” he says with an extended eyebrow waggle.

And yeah, there’s a sprig of green right above them.

Ben rolls his eyes. He’s pretty sure Rey’s reaction is similar. “Really?”

“Oh yes,” Poe says with a gleam in his eyes. “And none of that _chaste peck on the cheek_ stuff. We’ve seen too much of that tonight.” Everyone inside laughs, and Ben has the distinct feeling that it’s a joke he and Rey have no chance of getting. “On the lips, three seconds minimum,” Poe instructs them. “I’m timing you guys.”

“Poe-” Ben tries to modulate his voice to land somewhere between firm and placating.

“Smooch or no hooch,” Poe says, who’s clearly partaken from the latter. “And trust me, Finn’s mulled wine’s delicious.”

Ben turns towards Rey. She has in spades the charm he’s lacking. She’ll be able to shut this down with no hard feelings. But when he looks at her, Rey simply shrugs.

“Come on, Benjamin.” She’s smiling, but it still sounds like a dare. “Let’s give them a show.”

Before he can fully process her words, Rey’s hand wraps around the side of his neck and pulls him down. The tip of her nose brushing against his is cool, but her lips are warm and chapstick-soft. She presses in, mouth opening over his lower lip with just a hint of wetness. Ben gasps a little and she takes advantage of it, her tongue teasing between his lips, running along the row of his teeth, but no further.

His pulse hammers in his throat and his mouth and everywhere they touch, and he knows how she smells, knows from too many of them sharing Finn’s sofa, from cramming in next to her to share a cab with their mob of friends, from hugs hello and goodbye, but it’s different like this, fresher and sharper and headier. It hits him that he can _taste_ her, too, that the delicious soft sucks that make his lips tingle come with something almost too sweet and a little bitter. Ben would laugh because it must be that terrible cinnamon gum she insists is “wintery,” but Rey is _kissing him_ and he is kissing her back, and he could never have predicted how good it feels.

Ben doesn’t know when his hands slipped under her bulky coat and found her waist, but they have because now the soft material of her slacks, warm with body heat, is beneath his cool hands.That’s okay though because her palm, the one not holding his face, is resting on his chest, close to where his heart is beating fast.

And then it ends.

Rey’s hands slip away. Ben quickly lets his own fall to his sides. He’s looking at her, her shining eyes and shining mouth and the beautiful blush beneath her freckles that could be from the cold, but might not be.

She laughs, bright as always, and gives an exaggerated bow, like she’s Hugh Jackman in that awful circus movie she made all of them watch.

Ben follows her lead and feigns a tip of his cap.

“Told you, you should buy a hat,” she whispers.

Finally, Poe shepherds them into the room and gleefully announces, “Seven seconds, not bad.”

“That eggnog better be good,” Rey tells him, directing a quick wink at Ben before finding a spot on the couch.

Soon enough, they’re embroiled in yet another debate _– eggnog versus mulled wine_ as per recent events – and it feels so familiar, so much like every other friendly squabble they’ve had, putting way too much thought into their arguments, drawing from improbable (and Ben suspects sometimes plainly made up) precedent, and eventually declaring a truce when Poe calls everyone into the kitchen for a bowl of Finn’s stew and his own homemade naan bread.

Rey’s her usual sunny self, and Ben’s the usual grouch, and just because something might have shifted inside of him, that doesn’t have to mean anything.

\--

Less than a week later, everyone’s meeting up again to visit a Christmas market Rose swore would “blow their socks off. “

Of course Ben had grumbled something about cold feet and freezing temperatures, but then came along anyway. The study section he’s leading Fridays is a nightmare, and he just needs some time away from campus that night. That’s the only reason to go, obviously.

Rey, Rose and Finn talk about the model railroad that winds around the market with an enthusiasm only excusable in engineering majors, but Ben has to admit that when a miniature Polar Express passes them by with a _choo choo_ noise, he too has to smile.

The stalls mostly sell hand-made goods – carved figurines, glass baubles, scented soaps, et cetera – which Ben could take or leave, but the food options are surprisingly international and mostly smell great. He’s pleased to find some great falafel and pretty good rugelach, washing it all down with a little too much mulled wine.

It’s Rey and Ben’s turn to get in line for drinks, and she’s even more animated than usual when she explains the differences between American and English Christmas traditions. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s standing close, face tipped up to make sure he hears her over the din around them. Her lips are stained a darker color from the red wine, and he can smell the alcohol on her breath. She’s just about to explain Boxing Day – punching him in the arm to illustrate the name – when her eyes narrow in on a spot in the air.

“Here we go again.” She points above them with a grin. “Good thing we’ve had practice.”

Ben glances up and, sure enough, a sprig of mistletoe is dangling from the awning they’re currently under.

He expects a quick peck this time, but Rey must be a little drunker than he thought because she takes his face in her surprisingly warm, slightly calloused hands and pulls him down into a real kiss. Her lips against his are nice and firm, and the taste of wine mingles between them, somehow better now that they share it. This time he does notice his hands sliding around her waist, holding her close, like he needs to be inside her space, like he doesn’t want her to pull away.

After she lets go, Rey pats his cheek twice, her voice cheerful and a little out of breath when she says, “We’re getting pretty good at this.”

Ben can only stare at her, swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in his throat.

Before he can form any kind of response, the vendor asks for their order.

When they return to the others, neither Rey nor Ben mentions what happened.

\--

A few days later, Finn sends an “SOS. Need drinks stat.” message into the group chat, and since Ben doesn’t live too far from their usual bar, he decides to make an appearance. The fact that, as Finn’s best friend, Rey will almost certainly show up, might also figure into the equation. Maybe.

By the time Ben arrives, Rey is already seething with righteous fury on Finn’s behalf. Parts he’s been waiting for to run his thesis experiment have never been shipped, and it could mess up his whole graduation timeline.

“They can’t just leave you hanging until the new year,” Rey says as she pats Finn’s hand across the table. “I’m sure Holdo would give them a call if you asked her. The department does a lot of business with CantoLabs, they’ll definitely want to work something out once she gets involved.”

Finn nods, still tense but trying for a smile, and since there isn’t much else Ben can do, he offers to get some food.

Rey must have gone to the bathroom while he waited for the order because when he makes his way back with his arms full of nachos and cheesy fries, he almost runs into her.

“Oh, sorry, I-“ Ben stutters as Rey grabs onto his arms like she wants to steady him. Her grip is strong and even as he’s struggling to keep his balance, it makes him smile.

“You okay?” she asks, her hand already pulling away.

Before he can reply, Poe’s voice rings out through the room. “Hey Rey, Ben! Look up!”

And sure enough, there’s mistletoe. Again. It’s the only piece of Christmas decoration in the entire bar, so it’s safe to say neither of them had expected it.

Ben shrugs helplessly, his arms too full to take any kind of action.

“Okay, sure,” Rey says, uncharacteristically quiet, and this time, it’s just a quick peck on the corner of his mouth, over almost before it began.

Ben shouldn’t feel disappointed. It’s a stupid tradition anyway.

\--

As always, decorations at the faculty holiday party are sparse and the food mediocre. The drinks, however, are brand-name and free, and Poe declares it their sacred duty to make the most of their tuition by getting as drunk as possible. He has a good point.

Halfway into the evening, they decide to scientifically rate all alcoholic options, and now Rey is sitting at the head of their table with a notepad and grading rubric, obviously concentrating very hard to keep her writing legible. Her drunken diligence makes Ben smile, and when she chews on the end of her pen before making a tough call, Ben finds himself thinking that the very least the department could have done is put up some mistletoe.

\--

Technically, Rose’s birthday dinner isn’t a Christmas party, but at this time of year, everything seems to get sucked into the holiday vortex, as evidenced by the fir, tinsel and candy cane decorations.

Long after dessert, Ben wanders into the kitchen to make himself some coffee, eyeing the remaining Bumbleberry pie. When he turns around to throw away the pod, he notices something by the door. It’s a spray of mistletoe on a small band of satin that probably fell off at some point. Sure enough, there’s a red push pin that must have rolled into the corner.

Ben picks up both items and tries not to think too hard about what he’s doing next.

After he’s done, he divvies up what’s left of the pie, puts it on two plates and adds forks. One plate in hand, he positions himself by the door jamb and calls out, “Last slice of pie.”

It’s not a complete surprise when Rey shows up about three seconds later with grabby hands. She’s known for her nigh insatiable sweet tooth, after all.

“I love this pie,” she says with a smile that’s somehow both mischievous and apologetic, already pushing the first forkful into her mouth. Ben gives a half-smile in return and glances up meaningfully.

“Oh,” Rey says with an amused look. “Just our luck.”

Ben feels his face flush with what could be guilt or nerves or anticipation. “Seems like.” His voice comes out quiet, intimate.

He bends down towards her, just a little, not all the way, his eyes flitting between Rey’s eyes and mouth, and thankfully, she takes pity on him and closes the gap.

This time, everything is warm. Her hand on his jaw, her nose against his cheek and her pretty, pretty lips on his, soft and a little sticky with pie. Ben’s arm slides all the way around her waist, resting against the dip at the small of her back, pulling her closer. His eyes are closed and he breathes her in as he returns the kiss, slowly swiping his tongue against the seam of her mouth, feeling her open up beneath him.

“You two,” Poe’s loud voice startles them apart, “always with the mistletoe.” He claps both of them on the shoulder.

“Yeah,” Rey says with a good-natured laugh, “seems to be our thing.”

Ben nods dumbly and tries to smile. He’s not sure how genuine it looks.

After getting his own plate and cup from the kitchen, he joins the others in the living room. By now, the coffee’s lukewarm, but for once, Ben doesn’t mind.

\--

Ben’s last Christmas party of the year is at Finn’s house, two days before he’ll drive up to his parents for a long weekend.

To his own annoyance, Ben's been on the lookout for mistletoe, but although most of the decorations seem to have migrated from Poe’s apartment, there’s none to be found. Just as well, Ben tells himself.

At some point, Finn gets out a spinning wheel with silly games, telling everyone they’re reclaiming their youths tonight. Seeing as Ben’s the only one even close to pushing thirty, that seems slightly premature, but it’s Finn’s party and if that’s how he wants to celebrate, Ben’s going to be a good sport about it. 

One of the games is charades, and Ben’s always been pretty bad at it, but tonight it’s like Finn and Rey can read his mind. He’s still not sure how he managed to act out _swordfish_ and _nerf herder_ , but it’s strangely gratifying to be on the winning team for once.

Eventually, it’s Rey’s turn to spin the wheel, and when the dial lands on _Seven Minutes in Heaven_ , everyone but Ben seems to _oooh_ and _aaah_.

They’ve used slips of paper to divide into teams before, so Finn simply hands her the bag with a grin. Ben might be surreptitiously crossing his fingers for a certain outcome, simultaneously schooling his expression into something approaching neutrality.

Rey makes a show of swirling her hand inside the bag and eventually unfolds a piece of paper. “Ben.”

He tries to hold onto that neutral expression, but a small smile might be tugging at his mouth.

Rey puts the slip of paper back in the bag and gets up.

“Phones, please.” Finn holds out his hands and ushers them towards the coat closet, apparently the only one in the house without a light fixture.

With all the winter coats, it’s a tight fit, and Ben has to lean against one wall and stretch his legs out a little to fit under the clothes rail, but if Rey isn’t going to complain, neither is he.

“See you in seven minutes,” Finn sing-songs before closing the door and plunging them into darkness.

“So,” Rey asks, her voice familiar, but her face hidden, “what exactly is _Seven Minutes in Heaven_ about?”

Ben swallows. It didn’t even occur to him that they might not play _Seven Minutes_ in Britain. “Um, it’s just a stupid game teenagers play,” he hedges, hating the slight tremor in his voice. “Usually, you spin the bottle to decide who gets paired up, then you lock them in a closet together, so they can, um, make out.” He tries to keep his voice even, impassive, but he’s probably not entirely successful.

Rey giggles and she’s close enough he feels movement in the coats behind them. 

“So everyone’s expecting us to snog right now?” She rarely uses Briticisms, but when she does, Ben finds it adorable. His mouth makes a weird clicking noise.

“We don’t have to,” he hastens to clarify. “Some people do more or do less. Some just talk.”

“More?” He can clearly picture the impish expression on her face.

He shrugs although she can’t see. “Older teenagers, I’d assume.”

Her tone turns inquisitive. “And you’ve played this game before?” She reaches out, briefly touching his arm.

For a second, Ben isn’t sure, but then a memory comes to him. “Only once, I think. Cassie Fingerbaum and I. We were barely in middle school, had very little idea of how it was supposed to go.” He hasn’t thought about Cassie in a long time, although they used to be close, and his fondness for her must color his voice. “Her big sister had told her that you should use your tongue, so we wound up swapping her gum back and forth until our friends opened the door again.”

“Ben, wow,” Rey laughs, bright and bubbly. “That’s a great first kiss story.”

He’s laughing with her, albeit more quietly, and suppresses the impulse to rub his neck with his hand, a nervous habit. They’re so close, and he doesn’t want to accidentally elbow her in the face. “Yeah,” he agrees, “it was pretty good. I got to keep the gum, too.”

That makes her laugh again, and a strange sense of pride rises in Ben’s chest that he can make her laugh like that.

In the dark, Rey takes a step closer, so close that she’s standing between his awkwardly splayed legs, that her knee bumps against his thigh. “I saw you at Rose’s place, you know.”

For a split second, Ben considers pretending not to know what she’s talking about, but it seems useless, so he replies, “I found it on the floor, must have come down at some point.”

“Very thoughtful of you.” Her voice is low and she moves a tiny bit closer, her blouse whispering against his shirt.

And Ben might be a fool, but he’s not an idiot. This is flirting, this is an opening, and he should really try and meet her halfway. “I wanted to kiss you again,” he murmurs and reaches out, his hand landing on her hip and moving up to her waist.

Rey’s so close by now that he can feel the warmth of her breath on his face when she asks, “And you can only do that under the mistletoe?”

Ben swallows. “I want to kiss you all the time.”

“Good to know,” she says, and her hand finds his cheek, “because I-“

Right then, there’s a knock on the closet door and it startles Ben so much he bangs into the hat rack. A second later, Finn opens the door. “Come on, lovebirds, it’s White Elephant time.”

After seven minutes of near-complete darkness, the room is much too bright, and by the time Ben’s eyes have adjusted, Rey and he have stumbled out of the closet.

With everybody already seated, there’s no place left to sit together, and Ben curses his luck.

“Go sit down,” Finn tells them. “Poe’s about to make his big entrance.”

And what an entrance it is. He’s wearing a too-big Santa suit with clown shoes and horns on his head, carrying a big bag.

The room fills with amused whispers, but they quickly die down when Poe starts singing. Ben doesn’t know the melody, but the song does a good job of introducing Poe as Dirty Santa and explaining the rules of the game.

Turns out it’s an extremely elaborate version of White Elephant. Before you get a gift, you have to sing a song, recite a poem or answer a question, and there are a lot of rules about stealing and switching presents. It’s fun and it’s funny, and there are some outrageous gifts that manage to be both utterly useless and impressively hideous.

If only he’d had a minute more alone with Rey, Ben’s sure he could appreciate everything a lot more. As it is, he keeps trying to steal glances at her, but the way they’re seated is not conducive to that.

Eventually, the last gift has been stolen, and the best worst gift has been voted on.

Rose won by a landslide with one of the most bewildering items Ben’s ever seen. It’s the plastic likeness of a cherub with a carrier for an upside-down water bottle on his back, and when you press the little angel’s belly, he starts pissing water.

It’s sublime in its impracticality.

Rose holds it up and shakes it like a sports trophy and everyone cheers.

“Thank you for this amazing gift, anonymous benefactor. I will treasure it always,” she declares, then puts her plastic angel down and shifts gears. “And while I have your attention, let me say goodbye to all of you. I have an early appointment tomorrow, so I really have to get going. See you guys again for New Year’s!”

Hugs and holiday wishes are exchanged and when it’s Rey’s turn, Rose seems to remember something. “You know what,” she says, “I took the car tonight. I could drive you home if you like.”

Ben’s heart sinks. How can this night go so right yet so wrong?

Rey smiles up at Rose. “No, thanks,” she says and Ben lets out a breath. He thinks he makes out a twinkle in her eye when she adds, “I think Ben’s taking me home tonight.”

When she finds his gaze and shoots him an exaggerated wink, Ben feels his whole face pull into a smile. 

He’s going to take Rey home tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Like all my stories, this is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
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